Truly Beloved
by wellwithmysoul
Summary: Mattie comes to us again as an old woman, confessing there is more to her tale than she previously owned to.  This is the rest of her life's story...   Mattie/LaBoeuf
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

People do not give it credence that a fourteen-year-old girl could leave home and go off in the wintertime to avenge her father's blood...

The same folk, upon learning such a story is truth and upon making a short study of such girl, do not give credence to the thought that she possessed a woman's heart beating within her breast. I am here to tell you, Reader, that such proposition is gospel truth.

On my first account of my, albeit unlikely, great adventures with the Marshal Cogburn and the Ranger LeBoeuf I quickly surmised I had no contact with either man since. I am sorry to admit this was a bald faced lie, a sin which has grieved me since and in more ways than one. Yes, Mattie Ross is a sinner like all others and more so than many as you will see, should you be bold enough to learn the truth of my life.

I am an old woman now, soon to be crossing over that Great Divide. It has come to my attention that when you grow old, your pride loosens its grip somewhat and your previous life is revealed to you in new light. What I was ashamed to admit before no longer do I view in disgrace – only joy, love and great sorrow are brought to mind.

My life after returning home to Yell County was as passionate and tumultuous as those saccharine heroines in the dime novels I hid under my mattress as a girl.

Verily I say to you - you did not truly believe Mattie Ross was ordained to live out her days in amity and content? I lived as passionately as Solomon in my own right, as you will see.


	2. This Heart of Mine

I could really use a beta… anyone? After this chapter we really get to the meat and potatoes of the story. :)

_Chapter One: This Heart of Mine_

There was a young man by the unfortunate name of Clarence Thaddeus Throgmorton III who lived with his family on a farm up the road from ours of good size, near 600 acres with a nice homestead and six-stall horse barn. Now do not misjudge, Clarence Thaddeus Throgmorton III is a proper, stalwart sort of name if one has the countenance and fortitude to live up to it, but this particular Clarence did not. Now, mind you, he was a very amiable young man with good sense that only lacked finishing. I only mean that he was a terribly small sort of person, barely taller than I, and wispy as a spring willow branch. He was not ugly by most standards, but very dark and heavy browed. I preferred a fairer sort of man, tall and broad shouldered. But that is neither here nor there.

The Throgmorton family and my own long had it in mind that Clarence and I should marry, thus joining our estates that were separated only by the creek where Papa and I caught many a good trout while he lived, God rest him.

Though I had always been aware of this scheme if perhaps only in the back of my mind, it was brought to light the year I turned eighteen. Clarence was a full year and two months my elder. He and his Papa, a small man like himself but very friendly, came to visit us on that day of my birth and arrange the particulars of what would be our lives together. They met with Mama and I in the parlor. I served lemonade with my one arm, the sleeve of the other neatly pinned just above what was my elbow.

Now I may digress a moment to tell you that in that year or so since my return, I had to learn hard and fast to deal with my new shortcomings. I will only glaze over it, as it was a hard time and not one I prefer to recall. You only need to know that I learned to do most things almost as well as before, with note that I did become a much better rider, learning to lead and respond to the horses with my body and not just the reigns. I never did master things with laces or the ability to fix my hair proper. When Victoria was not able to do it, I satisfied myself with securing it over one shoulder with a length of ribbon, one side held in my teeth as I tied.

Clarence studied me openly and, if I may say, appreciatively as our parents conversed. I will own at the risk of vanity that while I was remarked on more than one occasion at fourteen as being unattractive I had matured considerably. While I was still no great beauty - that lot fell to Victoria who was eighteen months my younger - I was a fine looking young woman with fair eyes and an excellent figure. My hair was my one vanity, for it was thick and dark and soft as rabbits fur. Even Victoria owned to be jealous of it. Paired with my superior intellect and business sense, I was a catch even minus the arm. Clarence knew this and appreciated it. Arrangements were made and we shook hands, then he presented me with a simple gold band that I would have to wear on my right hand. He told me he paid a good 20 percent on the dollar less than it's actual value. I told him was to his credit, though secretly I thought he could have gotten it down at least 5 percent more. He called me "Matilda" which no one ever did. We were to be married the following fall, after the last harvest was squared away.

One might think I would be bothered to be bartered and traded like the very cotton we sold, but such was the way of the world at the time. I did not love Clarence and he did not love me, and that was fine.

At least I thought it was fine. In truth I had not given it much thought at all until one lovely autumn evening, not a week before the ceremony joining our families was to take place, Victoria crept into my room long after the last candle had blown out.

"Mattie, are you asleep?" She whispered in the dark.

"Is everything all right Vickie?" I said as she threw back my covers and quickly crawled in.

"I can't sleep." Was all she said as she snuggled close to me and stuck her cold toes on my leg and I threw my arm around her.

"You are a bit old for nightmares." I admonished, but in truth I did not care. I could not sleep a wink either for the full moon was near bright enough to read by. She stayed like that for a few minutes, running her hand through my hair, as was her habit when she was nervous or worried about something. "Out with it, baby sister." I finally said.

"Oh Mattie, are you sure you are making the right decision!" She cried out and the anguish in her voice surprised me.

"Victoria! What are you on about?" I said.

"You know! About marrying Clarence!" She hissed. "Mattie do you even love him?" She sighed dramatically. I rolled my eyes.

"Clarence is a good, respectable young man. I admire him."

"Oh!" Victoria cried and buried her face in my pillow in anguish. "_Admire _him? Poor Mattie!" came her muffled reply.

"Victoria you are being ridiculous." At that she sat up stiffly and pushed away from me. I could see her tears in her eyes, shining in the moonlight.

"I am not! I am only considering your happiness! Mattie, can you really live with someone your entire life whom you only _admire_? A marriage with no passion? I cannot imagine anything worse!"

"You have been reading too many novels. This is real life Victoria, things are not always about _feelings_. This is about duty."

"This coming from you, someone who has lived such a grand adventure!" She scoffed. "I know you better than you know yourself, Mattie, at least I know the you that is beneath all your piety and solemnity. I cannot see you resigning your life to feeding chickens and baking pies. "

"You do not know me then. There will be a matter of these farms to run."

"You know full well what I mean! I have seen you pine for those days, staring out into the sunset when you think no one is looking like some old man in his rockin' chair, thinking of his best days. I see the way your face changes when you talk about it – and the true fact that you never talk about it anymore." I had nothing to argue against that, so I sat back against the padded headboard and closed my eyes, suddenly weary. Victoria did not realize I _had_ lived my best days in those few short weeks. To hope for some grander scheme any more was futile and silly.

"Did your cowboy ever write to you?" Her hushed voice came to me.

"Marshall Cogburn? I showed you his letter the day it arrived."

"Not that old coot! I mean the Texas Ranger."

Him. "No." Was all I said. I was betrayed and surprise by the bitterness in my voice.

"You could still go look for him!" She pursued.

"It has been four years Victoria. A man like him is either dead or married. And frankly I am shocked at your passion, Vickie!" I admonished, but she shook her head and gripped my shoulder.

"And I am surprised by your lack of!" She cried. "My bullheaded sister Mattie, who always gotten exactly what she wants."

"Got. Or better yet, _received._" I corrected and she shot me a withering look.

"You love him, Mattie. Admit it." Her statement hung in the moonlight like a night owl – searching, waiting, silent.

"Love? What is love but a… a puff of smoke in a young and foolish girl's heart!" I turned from away from her. "I admit that I esteem Mr. LeBeouf greatly and I always will. I have yet to meet his equal."

"Esteem all you like, Mattie dear." Victoria flung the covers off and stomped to the door. "But we both know the truth! You will take vows with Clarence when it is another man who holds your heart!"

The week came and went and soon I found myself in a pretty blue calico frock, headed for the Presbyterian Church in the carriage to bind my soul forever to another. I was tired, and there were dark circles etched under my eyes that made my mother sigh. Victoria had spoken scarcely a word to me since that night in my room, but her words echoed over and over in my mind nonetheless. It was a gray day, unseasonably cool and the threat of rain loomed in the sky. They say it is lucky for it to rain on your wedding day, but I say this is hogwash.

The church was near full of smiling faces eager to see poor one-armed Mattie walk down the aisle alone, for Little Frank had already returned to school and my Papa watched from that Glory Above. I held my breath for a moment before I took to the aisle, sending a little prayer heavenward for strength.

I joined Clarence before the pulpit; he was smiling and looked dapper in his Sunday suit. I smiled as best I could at him, but inside my heart gave a funny little turn. The preacher prayed over us and blessed us both. I hardly heard a word for the pounding of my blood in my ears. Vaguely I realized Clarence had taken my hand in his and was saying his vows.

"Matilda." The preacher turned to me. I had known him the entirety of my life and that was the first time he ever called me anything but Miss Mattie. "Repeat after me: I, Matida Ross, take you, Clarence Throgmorton to be my lawfully wedded husband."

I said so.

"To have and to hold"

"To have and to hold" Came my reply.

"To cherish, to love, to honor and obey."

"To- to cherish, to lo…"

_To love?_ Could I really stand before God Almighty and proclaim to give my heart wholly to another when in truth…

In truth it was pinned neatly beneath a silver Texas star. Tears rushed to my eyes and I felt near faint with sudden panic.

"Matilda?" Clarence was staring at me with concern. He gave a little nervous laugh that sounded somewhat like a colt's whinny. "Not getting cold feet are you?"

"My name is Mattie, Clarence, and I do not think it prudent I marry you." I stated quietly, turned and ran from the church as fast as I could in the mud and the pouring rain, tossing my bouquet into a deepening puddle where a stray pig rooted for grubs.


	3. All My Tears

_Chapter Two: All My Tears_

Now I do not want you to go on feeling sorry for Mr. Clarence Thaddeus Throgmorton III so I feel I ought to clear things up before moving on. All's well that end's well, as the poet says, and he ended up marrying Victoria not a year later. Yes, the very same sister of mine who neatly persuaded me _not_ to marry him.

Before you take up your sword against her, know that she did not have an evil scheme to turn me from him and keep him to herself. They met in town and at church and spoke often and fell in love as natural as two people do. Victoria wept great alligator tears the day she told m, and begged me not to be angry with her. I told her I gave them all my best, and I meant it.

Victoria and Clarence were well suited to one another, he was quite proficient at being the head of the family and she was quite happy to be his helpmate – I am not sure the same could have been said of he and I.

Time moved right along as it has always done and always will do. The spring I turned twenty years old found me on a train bound from Dallas to home, Little Frank in tow, though Little he was no longer.

After Papa was gone and after my "escapade" across Indian Territory, Mama decided Frank would do well with a solid education away from home and under a man's influence, rather than my own, I am sure. He spent most of his next few years at the Texas Military Academy near Waco. He graduated that year, barely seventeen years old and a finer young man there never was. I attended his graduation ceremonies on my own, as Mama was not up to much traveling and Victoria was swollen with child.

We rocked in contentment with the sway of the train, listening to the constant lull – _clacka clacka clacka_ of the wheels on the track. Across from us sat a rather portly man in a tweed suit and bowler who must have the conscience of a babe - we were barely past the station when he started snoring softly.

"I met a girl, Mattie." Frank confided in me suddenly as he took my hand in his own. A lopsided grin tugged at his lips.

I cocked my head and matched his smile. "You never mentioned her before?"

He shook his head and looked down at our hands as he absently rubbed mine with his thumb. "I did not wish to worry Mama. You know how she badgered me about my studies. I did not want her to think I was distracted." His smile grew wider. "Her name is Anne and I love her more than anything, sis."

"Well Frank! I am happy for you!" I beamed. "Why did you not introduce me to this girl?"

"Her family lives in Austin, but she comes to stay with an Aunt in Waco often. Oh Mattie how I wish you could have met her! You know I value your opinion greatly."

"Well I am sure that if she has captured your heart so readily I can not help but like her." I assured. "But Frank, Austin is a long way from Dardanelle."

He fidgeted for a minute, casting his gaze out the window, to the fat man and down the aisle – everywhere but to me. "I am not going home to stay, Mattie May." He finally confessed, using his favorite nickname for me. He rushed on, his grip tightened on my hand as he spoke. "I already have it figured! Anne's Daddy is a big man in Austin politics, he is going to help me get in the Texas Militia where I'll serve until I'm older and maybe make Sergeant or even First Lieutenant. Then Anne and I can get married and I am going to try for Texas Ranger – I have the brains and the skills for it, you know I have. You aren't the only one in the family with a hankering for adventure." He prodded me with his elbow. I stared at him open mouthed for a full minute. His clear brow knit with worry and his blue eyes darkened.

"You think I am a fool." He grimaced.

"Indeed I do not!" I said, finally recovering. "I am in a state of shock, that is all! Frank, I did not think you knew what you wanted from tomorrow, much less had your whole life figured!" I laughed and shook my head. "You certainly had me fooled! I never knew you to be such a big dreamer."

"But you think I can do it?" He truly questioned me, and I knew he was searching for my approval.

I sobered up and spoke with all the earnestness of my heart. "Frank, if we Ross's have anything, it is grit. I have no doubt you will do all you say and more."

His grin reflected my own and he fished a necklace out of his shirt, on the end was a tiny gold ring with an emerald set in it.

"Where in the world did you get the money for it?" I asked, taking it in my hands to admire it better.

"I have worked two jobs the past couple of years, one moving hay and the other looking after a rich man's horses. He liked me so he paid me more than fair. Then all the money you and Mama and Grandpa Sterling in California have sent me."

"I did notice the elbows of your jacket are growing thin. I wondered why you had not found something new." I let a smile come over my face again as he slipped the treasure back under his shirt. "Mama is going to have a conniption."

"I know it." He shot me a charming smile. "You could tell her for me?" I snorted and shook my head.

"Not likely. Now, tell me about this Anne of yours."

Frank was more than happy to oblige me on the subject of his Anne and I confess I only half listened. The rest of my brain was ruminating on this new revelation. It seemed everyone had their lives sorted, hopes and dreams, plans and futures to pursue. I lost myself in a vision where I was on the single passenger on a silent and motionless train, stopped at the station with no intent or purpose to put it to motion once again. While I sat another train was passed me by – everyone I loved was on it but no one looked my way.

"What about you, Mattie May?" Frank's question broke me from my dream.

"What about me?" I said, with a little smile.

"Still butting heads with Clarence?"

"Oh, Clarence is all right. He knows his business." I begrudged. "Though he should not have sold those mules for what he did, it was nothing short of robbery. I told him so."

"I have no doubt you did." Frank watched me for a minute with those searching blue eyes. I did not like that look.

"Mattie May." He said with such fondness it made my heart clench. "What about you?" He repeated. "What do you want to do with this life of yours? You are still a young woman, sis, for all the big show you put on."

"I do not recall claiming to be anything else." I knew my tone was surly. Frank put his arm around my shoulder.

"I just want you to be happy, sis. I want you to know what I know now. I want you to feel this love I have found." I rolled my eyes and then sent my gaze out the window.

"Never did I know I was related to a bunch of troubadours. All we need are lyres and lutes to complete the effect."

Before Frank could respond to my jeer the sound of gunfire filled the cabin and the train gave a sudden lurch, throwing bags and trunks into the air and tossing people into the aisles, including our snoring neighbor, who woke up with a snort. In the blink of an eye two armed men stormed into our cabin, one sending a bullet from his pistol into the roof. It happened so fast no one even had the chance to scream.

"All right folks, y'all know what this is!" He yelled from beneath the dirty black bandana that covered his face. He was a short-ish man, dressed in all the trappings of an outlaw. "Out with your money and your pretties!" His partner pulled out a flour sack and started dancing down the aisle with it. Frank put his arm in front of me and pushed me back behind him a bit, his face grave and his keen eyes watching. "Do not do anything rash, Frank." I whispered, for I knew he had a Colt pistol matching mine somewhere on his person. The Ross's did not go unarmed. Mine was in it's holster beneath my left arm, hidden in my traveling cloak. Some of the women in the cabin began to twitter with fright, and from somewhere in front a toddler started wailing. "Shut that babe up!" The tall man yelled. "I can't stand a howlin' child." I noticed out the window a mounted man holding four horses. That made four in the railcars, two in here. The man with the flour sack had his shotgun tucked up in the crook of his arm so he could hold the heavy sack with both hands, and he was giggling at the amount of swag weighing it down. "I said hush that thing up!" The pistoled bandit growled and rose his hand to strike the woman just as his minion with the sack got to us - Frank reached into his jacket and I knew it was not his watch and fob he was after.

Quick as a flash we had our pistols out, his aimed directly at between the wide eyes of the lackey with the sack, mine pointed further ahead to the short man giving orders. Stillness settled in over the cabin as everyone held their breath collectively. My heart was pounding in my chest but my hand did not waver or shake.

"Well now." The short man said smugly. "What have we here?" He began sauntering our way.

"You hold your peace, pariah." I warned and he stopped, holding his pistols up towards the roof. Luckily for me, my voice did not quaver. "So much for not being rash." I hissed at Frank. He ignored me.

"Now I want you to lay down that sack." Frank ordered the man in front of him. I was shocked at the coldness in his voice. "Y'all just back on up out of here and I will allow this man to keep his brains in his head."

"Boy, you got some nerve, I'll give you that much." The short man warned, but his voice was amused. "What is your name?"

"Frank Ross, and you best not forget it. Now lay down that sack." The lackey did as he was told, slowly, never taking his wide eyes off Frank.

"Frank Ross you say?" the short man questioned, and I noticed for the first time his eyes were focused on my missing left arm and the amusement was gone from his voice. "I don't suppose that would make you Miss Mattie Ross?" He asked me.

"What is it to you?" I followed Frank as he pushed the other bandit towards the door, my pistol never straying from it's target.

"It is indeed a lot to me, Missy." His voice had grown cold by then and his blue eyes were like ice. "It means a _great_ deal to me, for it were a Mattie Ross that got my favorite little brother shot down in Arkansas. I heard tell she lost her arm that same day to a snakebite. Now, tell me if you recollect the name of Lucky Ned Pepper?"

"He is not so lucky anymore." The quip was gone off my tongue before I had chance to think better of it. The tall man's brows fell heavy over his eyes. His lackey had backed up clean to his chest but the bandit would not move.

"Keep on out the door or this man will lose his head!" Frank warned, but the bandit did not budge. I felt the situation quickly escalating from bad to worse. Damn Frank and his hot head!

"I think he might mean to shoot me, Jake!" His lackey quivered, Frank's gun barrel all but pressed against his sweating forehead.

"I do not think so." He challenged, not taking his eyes from me. "This must be your brother, is that right, Mattie Ross?" He said my name all sweet-like, but there was no sugar on his tongue. I did not give him a reply and he kept on. "I do not think it right that your brother is alive well and my brother's bones lie in shallow grave, do you, Mattie Ross?" By the time his words were hissed from his lips he brought one of his pistols down like lightning and the sound of gunfire roared through the cabin. His first shot went through the lackey's chest, blowing blood and gore all over Frank and me, but he was supernaturally fast and fired once again before I could get my first shot. I fired back but fired wide and he kicked my feet out from under me, sending my pistol clattering across the cabin. I fell down next to Frank, who lay motionless on the floor. .

"Frank?" I said his name, forgetting the bandit in a moment of panic as my eyes met with the growing red stain on the breast of his blue corduroy jacket. "Frank! Oh God!" I pressed my hand to the wound. He was growing ever paler, his breath ragged and shallow. His eyes met mine and reflected he fear I felt.

"A brother for a brother, Mattie Ross." The bandit said, pulling down his bandana so I could see his ugly face. I spit at him and he kicked me in the gut, doubling me over. I gasped for air and could do nothing but watch as he reached his filthy hand down to pluck the necklace and ring from Frank's chest. In a vulgar gesture he kissed the ring and held it out to me. A robber stuck his head in the door.

"Jake, let's high tail it outta here!" He called. Jake smiled at me and took the bloody flour sack from his dead friend before bolting out the door. Vaguely I heard someone yell that the conductor had been shot and there was a flurry of pandemonium around me, but mostly all I could hear was the low moan issued from my brother's throat.

"I fear I am done in, Mattie May." He whispered.

"No!" I ordered sternly threw myself on him and wrapping him tight with my one arm. "You are not. You will not leave me, Little Frank!" Someone then was at my elbow, pulling me back but I jerked from their grasp

"Please Miss, I am a doctor!" It was the portly man in tweed. I felt many hands pulling me back then and the mother of the wailing toddler, now silent, put her arm about my waist and wiped the gore from my face with her handkerchief while she prayed quietly for Frank.

It was late that night I found myself in a hospital room just outside Waco. I resisted any attempts to make me comfortable and remained at Frank's side, not caring to clean the blood from my dress and hair. The first bullet went clean through the unfortunate bandit's head and buried itself in Frank's shoulder, the second passed through him, nicking a lung. The doctor's hands were guided by the Almighty that night and they had hope for Frank, but he was not out of the woods yet. I sat in silent vigil at his bedside, feeling utterly useless. There was no one to bargain with, no deals to be made or accords to be struck.

That fine balance between life and death is a cold, wonton place bereft of choice and action. There is nothing to be done but wait, hope and pray.

I slid to my knees there beside Frank's bed, my face pressed into the bed and my hand clinging to his. I shook so fiercely with fear and trepidation I though I might be ill. I stayed that way and prayed, prayed from the deepest depths of my soul for God's grace, for His mercy, for a miracle. I cried harder than I ever cried before or since; guttural, violent sobs that choked me and left me gasping.

"Mattie!" A voice reached down to me in my sorrow and I could feel a pair of strong hands on my shoulders. "Mattie Ross!" There was a body there, kneeling next to mine at Frank's beside and speaking to me with a voice I never forgot. He pulled me back from my prostration on the bed and turned my shoulders to face him. I could see his eyes through my bleary gaze – brilliant and blue and full of worry.

"Mattie are you hurt?" He said, still holding me tight by the shoulders as we kneeled by the bed. I shook my head, covering my face with my hand, ashamed of my tears and hiccups that I could not control. He pulled my hand down and I met his searching gaze. "It is you." He said quietly, more to himself than me. A wave of dizziness passed over me and I thought for a moment I might swoon. LaBoeuf pulled me against his chest then, one arm wrapped tightly around my back and the other hand stroking my head like a child. I tried to push away but found I lacked the strength to fight so I resigned myself to trembling in his arms like a damsel.

"You are in shock from your ordeal." He said quietly.

"Astute as ever, Mr. LaBoeuf." I mumbled into his chest as comfort washed over me. He was warm and smelled of sweet pipe tobacco, gun oil and horses. I clutched his jacket in my hand and pressed my forehead into his scratchy neck. "My brother is shot to pieces." I whispered. "But I know the Good Lord will see him through."

"I believe you are right." LaBoeuf agreed. "See for yourself." I pulled back from him quickly and looked at Frank, who was watching us through heavy lidded eyes.

"Frank!" LaBoeuf helped me to sit on his bedside and I stroked my brother's cheek. The corners of his lip quirked up just the tiniest bit.

"Don't see that everyday." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"What is that Frank?"

"…Mattie May… in the arms of some stranger…" His little smile broadened just a bit. My heart felt as though it would burst from joy.

"You rest easy now, Frank." I said, kissing his forehead. He nodded ever so slightly as he closed his eyes. I watched him breathe steady for a moment, forgetting we were not alone. There was a knock at the door and the resident doctor came in. He was an older gentlemen with a "crown of glory" and thick glasses. I told him Frank had spoken and he too took it as a good sign. He encouraged me again to walk to the boarding house nearby to wash and rest in a littler room they kept ready by the kitchen for just such an occasion.

"Though it is late in the evening for a young lady to go walking about, I am sure the Ranger will see you there safely." The doctor said as he took his leave. LaBoeuf leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. I regarded him resignedly. Had I not been so utterly spent, I might have thought of a clever comment as he took my arm in his and led me from the room. As it was, we walked in silence through the halls and out into the quiet, cool night. The crunch of our feet on the gravel was the only sound.

"It was Ned Pepper's brother." I finally said, my voice like a ghost haunting the still air.

"I know it. He is wanted for killing a bank teller, among other crimes. He and his gang are thought to be holed up just west of here. We make for them in a few short hours, at first light."

"How did you come to be here?"

"I have been stationed in Waco these past three months."

"Oh."

"I am sure how _you_ came to be here is a much more interesting story." He looked at me curiously and spoke in a low tone. "It would seem Fate has not intended for you to lead an easy life, Miss Mattie."

We had reached the room and where a pretty colored girl waited for me in the door. I took my arm from LeBoeuf's and shifted awkwardly away from him.

"I will check in on you and your brother on my return." He said and with a tip of his hat, he was gone.

The colored girl's name was Lettie and she was a doll, taking pity on me in my sad state. She had drawn me a bath and helped me out of my soiled clothes, even going so far as washing my hair. I allowed her to lead me around like a helpless child. Even my pride was worn out by that point. When she had me bathed and plaited my hair she dressed me in Frank's nightshirt. Someone had been kind enough to fetch his trunk from the train, but my little bag was nowhere to be found. I collapsed on the little feather mattress by the fire, wrapped in Frank's scent and quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.

Phew, I have never churned out a story this quick!

I hope you are not turned off by Mattie's breakdown in this chapter, she will be back to her usual tricks in the next. But really, even tough girls lose it now and then, don't we?


	4. Firecracker

Thanks for all the reviews and alerts!

_Chapter 3: Firecracker_

Frank was much improved even in the scant hours since I last saw him. His pallor was better and in the few moments he was awake they managed to get him to drink some water. I spent the morning in his room and wrote a letter to Mama with few details, merely mentioning Frank and I stayed over to "see the sights" in Waco. No need worrying her over things completely out of her control.

All day my mind wandered back to the events prior. I could not get past the thought of Frank's precious ring, lost to that vile man. I hoped beyond measure they could recover it, that LeBoeuf and his Rangers had arrested Jake Pepper and his gang but something in my gut told me it was not to be so.

This premonition proved itself that same day around noontime as I took a little stroll to clear my head and stretch my woes. A ways down the dusty, bustling road was a livery with what looked like a few fresh horses out front for loan. I stopped in my tracks when I laid eyes on one in particular, my mind flashing back to the previous day. I had looked out the window briefly and noticed a single man keeping the horses for getaway. One of the horses caught my eye and stood out in my mind – a pretty little grey roan with a white mask and mane - an interesting little pony and more importantly a _unique_ little pony. That very same little pony stood now at the livery with it's ears ticked straight towards me and watched me with dewy black eyes as if she recognized me too.

My heart pounded in my breast like a drum as I stomped my way into the office where a man sat at an oak desk filling out papers. He was scrawny as a scarecrow and twice as ugly. His black hair was greased back with what looked like pig lard and his bushy moustache covered all of his mouth and it twitched like a rabbit's tail when he spoke. A seedier looking man never lived. His black eyes looked me up and down as I approached. A brass nameplate on his desk said Sheamus McKinney. He looked about as Irish as a buffalo.

"May I help you, ma'am?" He oozed, but did not bother to so much as rise from his seat.

"Do not bother yourself to get up, trash!" I scolded and he at least had sense enough to look taken back. "I came to inquire about that roan hitched outside. Just when and where did you come by her?"

His moustache twitched and he leisurely too a sip of black coffee. Brown glistening drops clung to his whiskers like muddy water. "That is a beautiful little gal, ain't she?" He said as he leaned back in his chair.

"I am not here to query her looks." I snapped. He sipped his coffee again.

"I found her myself, roaming the Oklahoma prairie like a gray ghost. Perhaps she is…" He tried to sound mysterious and theatrical, no doubt thinking he could swoon me out of my money with some romantic story. I slammed my palm down on his table with a satisfying smack and caused him to jump in his seat and slosh a bit of his coffee into his lap.

"I do not want to hear any of your tall tales, charlatan! If you will not offer where you found the pony, then I will be forced to job your memory. She was until just recently the property of one Thomas Dawson, a thief whose blood ruined my best traveling dress." I leaned over the desk, pointing down at him. "You must have come by his companions and bought the horse from them, sorry rabble they were! You will tell me now _where_ exactly you met them and exactly _when_ this meeting occurred, or I shall report you to my very good friend, Sergeant LeBoeuf of the Texas Rangers, for withholding information as to the whereabouts of the Jake Pepper gang, wanted for murder, attempted murder and robbery! I do not think hanging is too great a punishment for persons aiding nefarious criminals, procuring evidence and withholding information. I am sure the lawmen, once alerted to your own disreputable activities, would become aware of some other discrepancies in this fine establishment of yours, would they not, Mr. McKinney?"

He sat stock still, staring at me as though I were a banshee sent straight from hell to torment him for his sins. After a moment's hesitation sizing me up… he told me. Spilled the beans, as they say, but he was not happy about it. I cannot repeat what he said, for there were many colorful words peppering his confession that a Christian should not utter. Once he finished, I said,

"Now, I am willing to relieve you of the pony that has caused you so much grief for a fair price. No doubt those men, being in such a hurry, sold you the saddle and the rest of the trappings with it. I am willing to offer you twenty five dollars for the lot." I always carried money in my boot when I travelled, for you never know when you might be in need of it.

That sent him to his feet and I was tickled to notice he was a good three inches shorter than myself. "That's highway robbery!" He sputtered.

I looked down my long nose at him and said, "Well, you of all people would know robbery when you see it, right, Mr. McKinney?"

I gave my new pony to the stable boy at the hotel to feed and give a good combing. She was a calm, sweet spirited mare; I knew we would fast become friends. Mr. McKinney was right in likening her to a ghost so I named her "Spookie."

I returned to my room then for some sausage and cheese and a little nap. I woke up some time later feeling quite refreshed. I fished out Frank a change of clothes from his trunk, noting a lovely pair of deerskin riding breeches that must have come from his rich employer. I asked Lettie if she would mind throwing them in the wash for me, extra hot water.

"But Miss Mattie, they'll shrink!" She said to me.

"Precisely," came my reply.

Frank was awake and sitting up a bit on some pillows when I returned, a pretty little Mexican nurse tending to him. She giggled at something he said when I walked in.

"Mr. Ross!" She tittered before sashaying out. I threw him a look and he responded with that dashing smile of his. That boy could charm the bark off a tree.

"I see you are feeling better?" I questioned as I sat down next to him on the bed. He put his hand on my arm.

"Tired." He said, and he looked it. "You wrote to Mama?"

I nodded.

"You did not tell her what happened, right?" I chuckled.

"I am not crazy, despite what most people will say." He nodded and closed his eyes.

"The doctor was here a little while ago, said I would be here two weeks at least.

"I figured as much." I said. "Why did you do it, Frank?" I knew the answer, but I wanted him to say it.

"I thought I could help, sister." He sighed. "I cannot just sit by and let justice go unserved."

"Unserved' is not a word, Frank, but I know what you mean. Still, it was a foolhardy thing to do." I leaned against him. He knew what I meant without me saying it.

"I do believe you are the last person to lecture about such things." He opened his eyes to wink at me and was caught by the stern look on my face.

"Mattie May, what is going on in that head of yours?" His grip on my arm tightened, but I was saved a reply by a knock at the door. LeBoeuf stood in the doorway and I rose to greet him. He took his hat in his hand like I was some high borne lady and nodded my way. I noticed with a smile that his cowlick was as stubborn as ever.

"It is a gracious day when Mattie Ross greets you with a smile." He said. My face quickly fell and my cheeks reddened just a little bit.

"Mr. Ross, you are looking much improved." He said to Frank. "I do not believe we have been properly introduced, I am Samuel LeBoeuf."

Samuel suited him just fine, thought I. I figured people called him "Sam" on occasion, however, and that did not suit him at all.

"Mr. LeBoeuf, it is a pleasure to meet you." Frank said, offering his hand weakly. I did not like the sweet undertone in his voice. "Finally, I have heard many things about you." At this he directed a mischievous look in my direction.

"Ahem!" I cleared my throat loudly. "Mr. LeBoeuf, I imagine you have come to tell us of the apprehension of the Jake Pepper gang?"

"I wish it were so. As it was, we went on a wild goose chase. I am sorry." It was as I figured then. This news sent a little starch out of Frank and he sunk back further on his pillows.

"You will still go after them, right?" Frank asked, his voice hopeful. "You are Texas Rangers, after all." I ruffled his hair back – at times I forgot he was only seventeen. Mr. LeBoeuf puffed out his chest a bit more at that.

"I can assure you that we will do everything in our power to bring these men to justice." He looked at me, too, catching my gaze and holding it. I felt the pink creep back in my cheeks and I chastised myself for it.

"You are tired, Frank. I think it is best if we let you rest tonight." I kissed his forehead. "Things will look better in the morning." He nodded slightly, already on his way to sleep.

Mr. LeBoeuf tried to take my arm again as we left the room, but I shimmied out of his grasp. He cleared his throat to speak but I beat him to it.

"Mr. LeBoeuf, I would be much obliged if you would accompany me to dinner this evening? I have heard the hotel's dumpling are quite delicious."

He favored me with an exasperated look. "Well Ms. Ross, I was going to ask you the same, but it seems you are not a lady who waits for a gentlemen's invitation."

"Indeed I am not a lady, Mr. LeBoeuf, and if I happen to see any gentlemen in this dusty town I assure you I will act with the utmost decorum." A half smile slipped while I made my jibe and he roared with laughter.

"Same old Mattie Ross." He chuckled, taking my arm in his while I was distracted, perhaps by his smile. I felt my heart give a little twist and I knew then and there I was in trouble.

The restaurant in the hotel was clean and comfortable with a few partons making quiet conversation in the lamplight. We ordered the house special – chicken and dumplings, then settled into an uncomfortable silence. I felt every bit as self conscious as I did the first day we shared a meal together, six years ago in the boarding house at Ft. Smith.

LeBoeuf shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I apologize, I have been calling you Ms. Ross when surely that is no longer your name." I felt my feathers ruffle but I swallowed my pride along with a sip of iced tea.

"Indeed it is, though Mattie was good enough six years ago and it is still fine now." He gave me a queer look then, which I was unable to decipher. I thought maybe he was going to be ill. "LeBoeuf? Are you all right?" He recovered quickly, taking a draw from his mug.

We entered into light conversation then, speaking of trivial things like the price of cotton and his new horse. A fog of unease had settled over both of us, as happens sometimes when you see someone you have not seen for a long while. We were both happy for the distraction of eating when the food arrived. The dumplings were good, though not anything as good as the one's Mama used to make on cold winter days. Once our bellies were full, I cleared my throat and straightened my back, ready to do business.

"So what about Jake Pepper?" I finally asked. "When will you all continue your search for them?"

"Now Mattie, the Rangers here are already stretched thin as butter."

"You mean not to chase after them?"

"Did I say that? I only mean that it will be difficult to get started with no clear trail to follow. Jake Pepper and his buddies are slippery one's. If there was an idea of where to look I would be after them like a fox on a rabbit's trail."

"Oh, there is a trail to follow, Mr. LeBoeuf, if your eyes are open to see it. I have a business proposition for you." I said.

"I bet you do." He said dryly. I ignored his comment and continued.

"I came across certain information today that I believe is your metaphorical rabbit."

"Is that so?" He cut in and not at all in a friendly tone.

"It is so, and I will thank you not to interrupt me again! I have recently come into possession of a roan pony, which I recognized immediately as one of the horses in company of Pepper's gang. It is a very unique looking creature, as you will see. I spotted her outside McGinney's livery just this morning, and after questioning Mr. McGinney as to where and when he acquired her I have learned valuable information about the location and destination of Pepper's gang." LeBoeuf's eyes grew darker as I spoke, his brow deepening over his blue eyes. He learned forward now, not taking his eyes off me.

"Go on." He said as I paused to gather my wits. I turned my nose up slightly at him and continued.

"Now, I am willing to pay you seventy-five dollars for capture of Jake Pepper and the return of something very valuable to me, as well as supply our food and other necessaries for the journey. You will receive twenty-five now and the rest on his capture. I believe the reward currently offered for him is somewhere around two hundred dollars?"

"That is correct."

"And that would be yours to keep as well, I do not expect to keep my share for our efforts. Justice is enough reward for me." I looked straight back at him now, daring him to rebuff. He studied me for a long moment with eyes that glittered with anger.

"Absolutely not." He finally said, pushing away from the table. With hat in hand he made his way to the door without so much as looking at me. I admit I was expecting more of a fight.

"LeBoeuf!" I called his name as I followed him out into the lamp lit street. He walked on, not turning my direction.

"LeBoeuf, it is a good offer!" I stepped in front of him, blocking his path and grabbed his arm. "What reason do you give for refusing it?" He glared down at me and I felt a little swirl of unease in my stomach. Roughly he took my hand and jerked me down the sidewalk to my little room off the back. He threw open the door and quite literally flung me inside, slamming the door behind him. I was reminded suddenly of a moment we shared by the river.

"Surely you did not mean to give me a good hiding at twenty years old!" I growled. He threw his hat at me and hit me right in the nose! I sat on the bed in shock.

"I ought to, by golly!" He cried.

"Tell me why you will not accept my offer." I rubbed my nose sullenly.

"Tell you- Mattie Ross, you are the most vexing creature God has ever created! I would take a thousand stubborn mules over you!"

"It is because of my arm, is it not? I manage just as well and better than most people who still have two!"

He gave me a scathing look then. "I have no doubt of that. Even just today you have managed to hornswaggle Mr. McKinney-"

"Hornswaggle!"

"Yes, hornswaggle! Why did you not go directly to the law when you recognized the pony?"

"...Because I knew I could deal with him better than some chumped up deputy! And I wanted that pony!" I regretted my words as soon as they left my mouth.

LeBoeuf looked smug then and whipped the little wooden chair around, pressing the back of it against my knees and sitting in it backwards, trapping me to the bed. He leaned over the back, inches from my face; I could smell the beer from dinner on his breath.

"You wanted the pony?" He said and I nodded. "You wanted the pony to go gallivanting off on some big adventure again. Lose another arm _or worse_! After hearing what your brother did I am certain you are a foolhardy family." I opened my mouth to protest but he put one of his big hands over it and I glared at him over it. "There is no wheedling to be done here, Mattie Ross. I am the judge and jury. I will take your case and pursue Jake Pepper on my own, _that is final_. You will wait here until your brother is well then see him back home. Now, tell me what Mr. McGinney told you." He removed his hand and I pursed my lips into a thin line.

"Mattie…" He warned. I stopped myself short of crossing my arms, well trying to anyway, and opted to turn my nose up and away from him. This point near boiled him over. "Fine, if you do not tell me, the trail goes cold and Pepper will get off scot free. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not." I said and looked back at him "If you will not take me, I will find someone who will. I am sure not every Texas Ranger is as virtuous as you, Mr. LeBoeuf. Is that what _you _want? To see me ride off into the wild with some disreputable curr?" This was a dirty hand, but I dealt it anyway. He softened a bit, only just a bit, his hands gripping the sides of the chair until his knuckles were white.

"I do not want that, you know it. You make a good point besides the danger, though - traveling with me will stain your reputation, Mattie. What about your prospects, your reputation as a young lady?"

"Mr. LeBoeuf, I am a one armed girl of little consequence with a tongue like a whip, and you said yourself that I am unattractive. I have no prospects." Strangely enough, my throat tightened up as I spoke. Sometimes the truth will choke you.

I turned away from him, ashamed. It was a few breaths before LeBoeuf spoke but I could feel his eyes on me.

"Why is it so important you catch him yourself? Do you not trust me to come through?"

"I do. You are a fine example of your sex, and I have said before you proved to have true grit. I stand by that." I fidgeted with a ruffle on my skirt. "He took Frank's engagement ring for his sweetheart. It was a personal insult to us. Had he not been shot he would be hot on Pepper's tail to get it back. I doubt you would have fought with him about it." I shot him a look.

"I would not have, but he is a stout young man and you are a young lady."

"I am no lady." I mumbled. He reached out and fingered the cream lace at my collar.

"You could have fooled me." His voice was softer than it had ever been and his blue eyes were heavy-lidded. I felt blush rise to my cheeks and I prayed he could not hear my heart that suddenly felt the need to beat like a war drum.

The moment ended as quickly as it began, he stood up and pulled the chair away from me. "You will really find someone else should I refuse?"

I nodded. "Someone rougher around the edges than Rooster, if I can." I was serious and he knew it.

He sighed and shook his head.

"You are one firecracker, Mattie Ross. Be ready at dawn."

I was ready before dawn. The afternoon before I had already settled with the hotel cook to make us provisions for our journey, which he provided later that evening after LeBoeuf left. I packed them up neatly in the saddlebags. Lettie brought me the deerskin breeches that she had shrunk in the wash. They fit me snug; perfect for long rides through God knows what kind of Texas country. If Rooster was telling anything close to the truth there were more thorns than green leaves in this brush. And, much to my luck and blessing, the same young lady who passed away in the cream colored gown was an avid rider staying at the hotel, from what Lettie said, in hopes of snagging her one of those richey big time cattle men that frequented the area. I was able to buy a pair of her used riding boots and felt hat for a fair price. It may have been because she died while wearing them, bucked off and kicked by a horse. Some people are superstitious about that sort of thing, but it does not hold water with me.

I borrowed one of Frank's linen shirts and a dove grey vest. They were a little big but worn in and comfortable. I would take his scent with me, anyway. Across my hips I slung his gun belt and holsters, fitted with his and my matching Colt pistols. I had to make an extra hole in the leather for the belt to fit.

Late in the night as my candle burned dangerously low I penned Frank a long letter to be delivered mid-morning explaining my actions. I did not figure him to be surprised, but I knew he would be mad as a hornet. I had tried to convince him of my noble intentions, just as I had done the previous night to LeBoeuf. My excuses were every bit as flimsy as they had been the night before.

I did want justice. I did want to see that precious ring, a symbol of all things good and right, delivered back into my brother's hand.

But there was more to it than just that. I needed to go against the grain of my sex, of my handicap. If I had been born a boy, I would no doubt be a bounty hunter or Ranger or great military man. Instead I was born a girl who had become a woman. A right proper woman, expected to sit at home and embroider pillows. Had I been born of a poor family, I would have at least had the honor of working hard, scratching out a living from dirt and rocks. My sense of adventure and longing for something _more_ was what drove me.

That… and the fact that I would be adventuring with my one truest love.

So I waited until I heard him knock on my door just before first light. I quickly tied my hair over one shoulder and put on my new hat. Outside the stable boy held my pony, I paid him a nickel to get her ready for me.

I opened the door, ready for a new adventure.

LeBoeuf stood in my doorway and I heaved a sigh of relief that he knew better than to take off without me. He blinked in surprise before a shadow fell over his face. He put his hands on my shoulders and started pushing me back inside. Had he changed his mind?

"You get right back in there young lady and put on something decent!" He growled like an old man.

"What?" I ducked down out of his grasp and whirled back around to face him. "If you think I am going to ride across Texas in a corset and stockings you are sorely mistaken!" I planted my hand on my hip and stood my ground. "If you wish, I will pull my hair up in my hat and pretend to be a man. You may speak for the both of us if we should come upon someone."

"Number one, the day you let someone else speak for you will be the day the trumpets sound and the Angel of the Lord himself comes to carry us home. Number two, no one would ever be fooled into thinking you were a man." He caught me off guard with his complement, and he knew it. There was an awkward silence between us. This did not bode well for the coming days; all we seemed to be able to do was fight and discomfort one another. I reached down and pulled my traveling cloak from off the chair rest. I had intended to wear it all along, as the spring morning was quite chilly. I wrapped it around my neck and buttoned it tight.

"There. Better?" I said and walked past him without waiting for a reply.

Phew! Finally, the story begins!


	5. Distress Part 1

A/N I apologize for the delay! Life, you know. Thanks so much for the awesome reviews and alerts! Also: _Buccee__'__s_, lol.

_Distress Pt. 1_

_So fades the lovely blooming flower_

_Frail smiling solace of an hour_

_So soon our transient comforts fly_

_And pleasure only blooms to die_

_~Crooked Still_

"You are certain McKinney said Buccee's?" LaBoeuf asked me for what must have been the third time. I heaved a great sigh and nodded my head curtly. LaBoeuf blew air from his nose like a horse and shook his head. "I have known Buc Walters for many years and have _never_," he emphasized the word, cutting the air with his hand, "ever suspected him of running anything but a reputable and respectable business."

"No one knows what is in the hearts of man but the Lord." I said absently, not really allotting much attention to his doubts. We had ridden since dawn, southward and soon to turn west, passing many farms and homesteads along the way. Texas seemed a ripe and fertile country and I noted that I had yet to see so much as a sticker burr. By evening the rolling farms outside Waco gave way to tall, lonesome pines that creaked and cracked us hello as we rode by.

I shifted again in the saddle, unable to find a place to appease my aching backside. Spookie was a sweet tempered and beautiful horse but she had a rough trot and an even worse lope. Indeed it seemed she only had two comfortable speeds: very fast or very slow. I attempted discretion about my saddle woes but LaBoeuf, who was never without at least one eye on me it seemed, took notice.

"We will let soon and make camp for the night. I imagine you are suffering already from the long hours in the saddle, being unaccustomed to the task of hard riding as you are." He boasted, one hand on his hip and the other resting on the saddle horn as was his habit. "I myself have ridden for days on end without setting so much as a toe on the earth. A Ranger learns to disregard his own needs and sensitivities while in pursuit of a criminal."

"Did you shoot straight from the saddle then or is your body so well trained as to not take so much as one sip of water during those arduous days of travel?" I said saucily. I do not normally speak so crudely, but his continual boasting did not need to go unchecked and I was mighty tired of it. Once he caught my drift, his head whipped in my direction and I was gratified to see a bit of color in his cheeks. He looked away just as quick.

"I see that tongue of yours is no more honeyed now than it was before." He grumbled.

We had passed the day quickly; I listened to LaBoeuf as he rattled away about his adventures during the past few years. I did not believe the majority of it but he was a good storyteller and very entertaining. He spoke with clarity and his cadence flowed along comfortably with the _clop__clop__clop_ of the horse hooves. As he spoke he articulated his words with his hands, especially when he was "telling a good one." The man was a talker. One might almost forget we were in pursuit of a criminal and imagine rather we were just out for a pleasant Sunday afternoon ride.

Almost.

The sun soon dipped low on the horizon, darkness coming soft but quick in the shadows of the pines. We made camp in a little copse of ash trees that managed to claim their own straggling piece of sunlight from the thick evergreens. There was a crick nearby where I watered the horses as LaBoeuf set up camp. By the time I returned he had a cheery cook fire going. I shooed him away and took over, placing his spindle legged skillet over the fire and throwing some thick portions of bacon in it. They soon began to sizzle and pop and I added heaping portions of cornmeal I mixed with water to fry in the fat. LaBoeuf watched me work openly.

"You do get on very well." He observed. "Though I am not surprised, knowing your obstinacy."

"I am not one to let something hold me down." I said proudly.

"I know it." He said, catching my eye. "So Mattie Ross, what have you done with yourself these past six years?" I noted he knew the exact time as well I as I did. "Or should I say, who have you been haranguing?" He said the last bit with a smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes, proud of his joke. I ignored it, shrugging my shoulders as I set two camp plates down on a rock near the fire to serve our portions into.

"There is always work to be done." I said noncommittally, taking my seat with my plate in my lap not too far from his side. Before he could handle his spoon I reached over and slipped my fingers into his hand, bowing my head.

"Gracious Father, we thank you for what we are about to receive. We ask that you would bless us and give us wisdom on our journey and to grace Frank with a speedy recovery. Amen." I attempted to pull my hand from LaBoeuf's then but found it arrested there. I looked sharply at him only to be stilled by the sudden tenderness in his blue eyes trained on our joined hands. His hand was warm and calloused and wrapped around mine like a bear paw.

"It is not an unpleasant thing to have company on a journey, for all I may carp against it." He said earnestly. After another moment he released my hand from his. Immediately it protested against the sudden lack of warmth so I occupied it with my own spoon, fearing it would drift back to him of it's own accord.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, LaBoeuf cleared his throat and spoke. "Your mother, she is well?" I glanced at him then, surprised by this sudden exchange of pleasantries.

"Mama is doing well enough as to be expected. She is of a delicate nature and low spirits. She has Victoria to dote on her and soon she will have the welcome distraction of a little one in the house." My voice held a drop of wistfulness as I thought of home and of Victoria eagerly awaiting her new babe. "I am to be an Aunt." I told LaBoeuf proudly. He smiled and cocked his head towards me.

"Congratulations are in order then. You did not say your sister was settled."

"Yes, she had been Mrs. Clarence Throgmorton the Third for a-" Here my statement was cut short by LaBoeuf being throttled viciously by a bit of bacon. "Mr. LaBoeuf!" I pounded my fist between his shoulders. He coughed and sputtered and I quickly handed him his canteen from which he took a long draw. "Are you sorted?" I asked, kneeling down next to him with my hand on his shoulder. His face was beet red and there were tears in his eyes but he nodded, still coughing.

"I am sorted." He stammered. I set back down to allow him some dignity. After a few deep breaths and throat rattles he seemed well enough.

"Pardon me." He finally said roughly. "You were saying your sister was married."

"Yes, to our neighbor's son, Clarence Throgmorton. They make a smart match, for he is intelligent enough and she is beautiful." I did not feel like elaborating on Clarence and I's past… or lack thereof. I felt his blue eyes on me and looked up to meet his gaze, surprised to see an oddly pinched look on his face.

"And you yourself have never married." He stated quietly, almost to himself.

"I have not, as I told you once before." My confused reply came equally as quiet.

"I suppose the task of managing your family's farm has been relented to Mr. Throgmorton's shoulders then." He stated.

"It has." I conceded, not without a slight tinge of bitterness creeping into my voice. I could feel LaBoeuf's eye on me as I pushed my fried corn biscuits around on my plate absently.

"It is what is only right and proper." He said sagely. "Though I have not often known you to be one to yield to what is right or proper." This earned a glower from me but I held my tongue, considering our current situation.

"Clarence does a fine job managing the farm." I grumbled, hating every word. "Though there are some things we do not see eye to eye on, such as the best day to plant. I believe it is best to take an average of past frost dates and good rain days to come up with a median day that falls well between. We have always kept meticulous records of such in our family. Clarence always plants by the moon phase, superstitious mumbo-jumbo if you ask me. I have told him so on many occasion."

LaBoeuf chuckled. "I have no doubt of that whatsoever." We finished our meal in silence and I felt the conversation over until LaBoeuf spoke again with a serious set to his mouth and eyes.

"So where does that leave you, Mattie?"

"There is the house to manage, as well as the barnyard and such. There is always work to be done." I repeated my sentiment from earlier.

"I do not see you content with such a life, knitting stockings comfortably by a fire. I propose that is the real reason why you insisted on accompanying me on this dangerous manhunt. You are not cut from the same cloth as the rest of your sex."

I felt my face grow hot and indignant. "How dare you profess to know me!" I scowled. "It is impertinent and I will not stand for it!You are as pompous and vain as ever in all your superciliousness."

"You may say what you wish of me, but you do not argue that what I say is truth." His blue eyes sought mine and I turned away in anger.

"I do not argue with fools, it is an imprudent waste of my time." I said haughtily. It burned me up inside that this man of all should understand me so well.

I heard LaBoeuf sigh heavily beside me and tap out his pipe on a rock and toss another handful of sticks on the fire. After a good while, it was LaBoeuf who broke the silence.

"Have you ever seen it rain amphibians?"

"I…what?" I turned to him, forgetting my anger in surprise.

"I myself have witnessed a toad storm."

I had no response to this, so he continued after filling his pipe with tobacco.

"I was near Lubbock when it happened. There was a storm off to the nor'east, and a bad one. I could tell by the greenish cast to the clouds; the way the wind pulled towards it. About the time I figured I ought to high tail it out of there, something heavy and wet hit the brim of my hat, knocking it clean off my head. Spooked my horse something fierce, that same Appalachian pony you will remember, and she took off like a shot without me. I went to retrieve my hat when something else made a loud, wet ploppin' sound directly to my left. It was a toad, facedown on the ground and all splayed out. As I was mightily and understandably puzzling over this, there came another ploppin' sound, and another and so on. It was raining toads from that great big green storm cloud. About that time, the loudest, wickedest bolt of lightening straight from the hand of God hit the ground not too far from me. I laid out flat as one of those toads and prayed to be spared. Before long the wind shifted and that storm moved off to the east. There were toads everywhere but not one drop of rain. It did not take me long thereafter to find my horse; I only followed the scent of burnt flesh and hair. That one wicked lightening bolt had struck her down. Had it not been for those toads, I would have been struck down as well."

I stared at him for a long while.

"Toads?" I finally managed to croak. He winked at me, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"As I live and breathe." He said, settling back on his pack with his hands behind his head. I felt a smile then, twitching my lips and no amount of effort could control it. That smile soon turned to a grin, which soon turned to a full out, side clutching howl of laughter. LaBoeuf chuckled at my mirth.

"That was a hundred and twenty five dollar pony, I'll have you know." He said dryly. "And one never really gets the scent of smote horseflesh from your nostrils." He took a deep breath. "Yes, it is still there today."

Eventually I fell back on my blanket, wiping tears from my eyes. LaBoeuf wore a pleased smile like the cat that got the cream.

"You are beautiful when you laugh, Mattie Ross."

I felt the smile slip at once from my face. I sat up and turned to lash him for nettling me, but I stopped short when I saw his face. He was no longer smirking. The humor was gone from his eyes, replaced by anxious honesty.

"You ought not say such things." I told him sternly, though my rebuke did not come out as icy as I wished. What I meant was you ought not play with a girl's heart.

"Maybe I ought not, but it is the truth." The seriousness in his eyes had me utterly disconcerted.

Without another word I gathered our plates and cooking pot and took them to the crick to wash. I scoured them furiously with some gravel then splashed the frigid water on my burning face.

When I finally returned to camp, LaBoeuf had slid down on his blanket and covered his eyes with his hat. I was very glad for it.

I was uncommonly chipper the next day, though I refused to believe it some rosy afterglow of the night before. LaBoeuf assured me we were nearing Buccee's Trading Post and I was right glad to be getting on with our pursuit. Also, the day was warm and lovely – the dark pines had given way to rolling hills carpeted with pink and blue wildflowers as far as the eyes could see and the air was filled with birdsong. It was quite unlike anything I had ever seen. I threw back my cloak and hat against the warmth and LaBoeuf rode comfortably in his faded blue linen shirt.

"You do indeed hail from a beautiful country." I conceded to LaBoeuf. He near fell from his horse from the compliment. I did regret it though after an endless tirade in which he praised his beloved state, even through us stopping past midday to stretch our legs and water the horses.

"And in the hills to the west run waters as clear as those in Eden itself, cold and refreshing, so full of fish a man has but to dip in his net down in the water-"

"Have you heard anything of Rooster, Mr. LaBoeuf?" I asked, searching for a change of subject before I said something downright ugly. I squatted down at the creek's edge to fill my canteen. After a few moments of silence I glanced up at LaBoeuf to see if he heard me. He was standing next to me, looking down with a pout on his face that would challenge Victoria in its absurdity. Silence stretched on but for the chuffing noises of the horses in the grass nearby and the happy trickling of the creek. Somewhere nearby a woodpecker assaulted a tree in search of bugs.

"I asked if you heard tell of Rooster." I repeated. He turned from me slightly and fiddled with removing his gloves.

"And there she said it again!" He mumbled sullenly, raising his eyebrows in disdain. I confess now that my eyes did linger a moment on the slight downturn of his lower lip.

"Mr. LaBoeuf?" I prodded.

His blue eyes shot me an exasperated look when I spoke.

"You would call on that old codger with such familiar appellation but continue to use the utmost decorum with me!" He grumbled, pulling out his canteen roughly and stooping to fill it. "I have taken for granted the thought that we were friends."

After a moment of dissecting his statement I felt a smile tug at my mouth. "Mr. LaBoeuf!" I scolded, "Why, you are acting like a petulant child! All because I called our old pard Rooster by his common name?" I couldn't help but goad him on. He whipped up to his feet quickly and swung his head around towards me so fast his hat slipped off. I caught it just before it fell into the water. His cowlick stood up from his head like a crown, making him look even more like a sulky little boy than before. I had to cover my face with his hat to hide my laughter at the very thought.

"And now you make me the object of your fun!" He cried indignantly, roughly pulling his hat away from my face and causing me to stumble.

Suddenly I found myself pulled up against him, one arm wrapped securely around my waist, his other and mine both still holding his hat. My laugh caught in my throat as his breath washed over me and felt the quick rise and fall of his chest against mine.

"Mr. LaBoeuf…" I said breathlessly. He gave me a stern look and I feared another wholloping with his hat brim. "I call you thus because you never asked me to call you otherwise." I finished quickly, pulling his hat from his grasp and plunking it securely on his head. His cheeks flushed and I leaned back to relieve myself from his grip but he held me fast. "You may let go, I am in no danger of falling." I scolded; pushing my hand gently against his chest, for my heart was truly not in the action.

"Are you not?" His voice was barely above a whisper and his face had taken on that same soft look again. "Mattie, I'm asking you to call me by my name."

"No." I shook my head. "We are business partners in this venture and should treat each other as such. Now unhand me." The hurt that crossed his face pained me. Still he did not relent, only pulled me tighter.

"Very well. Then when we are in town or other such places, you may call me LaBoeuf. But, when we are on the trail with no one but each other for company, it's Mattie and Samuel." I could see he was going to be a bulldog on the subject and I was relishing the feel of his arm around me more than I wanted to admit and longed to be free of it.

"As you wish." I said. He gave me a chastising look and I sighed. "As you wish, Samuel." He watched my mouth as his name left my lips and my voice softened as I said it, such as one who reveals a great secret.

"I said once I thought to steal a kiss from you." He said, his brow creasing slightly in reflection. I felt his free hand traveling up my arm. A nervous flutter erupted in my stomach.

"You decided I was too young and unattractive, as I recall."

"I believe I have changed my mind to that respect." His fingers were on my neck, and he brushed my cheek with his calloused thumb. My eyes closed as his lips sought mine.

I have been kissed before, only twice, but enough for sufficient knowledge that this kiss felt much different than anything I had felt before.

His kiss was gentle, seeking and slow, yet I could feel him shaking with restraint and his heart pounded fiercely beneath my palm. He kissed me once, twice, three times then pulled my face closer to his and kissed me again, a bit rougher this time, his whiskers pleasantly scratching my chin and lip.

When he pulled away and his blue eyes opened to mine. I felt as though I could both melt into his arms and run away in terror at once from the way he looked at me, both tenderly but with a wolfish hunger.

"You have many looks, Mattie, but I believe this could be my very favorite." He said, a smug smile beginning to form on his lips.

"And just what look would that be?" I said, pleased to hear some vinegar back in my voice.

"Looking very thoroughly kissed. By me." He added pompously.

"I suppose I should look kissed." I conceded. "Though how thoroughly is a completely debatable point."

He started to protest and I covered his lips with mine to silence them. I could tell already I would need the Lord's help in practicing moderation with this man so I pulled away quickly and twirled out of his grasp while he was distracted.

"We are wasting precious time here, Samuel." I said fetching the horses. "If your curiosity has been satisfied, I suggest we move on to Buccee's before the daylight fades and see what information we can gather therein." He frowned at me, a little of the pout still left in his mouth.

I looked at him expectantly, waiting for a "leg-up" next to my horse. He sighed and shook his head before yielding and coming up behind me. He placed his hands on my hips and leaned over me, kissing me softly on the neck. Icy fingers tickled my back and I turned to glower at him. "My curiosity has _not_ been satisfied," he said, kissing me again just below my ear, "but you are right… for now." Then he hoisted me up on Spookie and I set out in her rough jarring trot so he would not be privy to the grin that crossed my face.

We did not make it to Buccee's Post that day, forcing us to set up camp once again. LaBoeuf, _Samuel_, promised we would arrive first thing in the morning. He spoke little after our encounter by the creek and one would almost say he looked quite troubled by it. The silence was welcome by me to allow me also the opportunity to mull over what had happened.

He asked me to call him by his Christian name. Samuel. I turned the name over in my mind. He was the first person besides family I had ever called by their first name. Not only did he ask me, but he seemed so desirous of it, as though he craved the intimacy of it. Then there was the kiss…. I shivered involuntarily again as I replayed it again in my mind. The feel of his soft lips and rough chin on my neck would not leave me soon.

So what did it mean? I did not know LaBoeuf to be a man given to flights of fancy and false passions… Then again how much did I truly know of him at all? I stole a glance at him across our little campfire. His brown was creased and his eyes trained firmly on the ground as he ruminated on something seemingly unpleasant. Could it be he regretted his actions? My heart gave a little turn at the thought. I lived to rationalize, to understand and to sort away, but these feelings refused to be classified.

"Mattie." He finally spoke, after our dinner had been put away and there was nothing to do but wait for weariness to turn to sleep.

"Yes, Samuel?" A ghost of a smile drifted across his lips at the mention of his name. Still he did not look my way.

"I behaved wrongly today. I have been castigating myself for it since. It was insalubrious and improper of me to steal a kiss from you when you have already put your trust in me to behave as a gentleman and respect your virtue on the venture. I do not expect it, but I do ask for your forgiveness."

I stared at him in the firelight as my stomach twisted in a knot. He did regret it. He does not care one whit for me beyond a friend, but was merely caught in the moment, unable to resist the beastly urges of man.

Then why did he look so pained? For anyone as vain as he, admitting his nature as a man should not cause such distress. It took a while to find my words before I could utter them. I willed myself to rise to anger for him morally chastising himself while I could find no fault in it. I should be the one distressed and agitated, yet for all I should, I could find no sin.

"It is not stealing but what I freely gave." I finally stated. My voice was firm, challenging, finally causing him to look up sharply at me from his sullen reverie.

"You do not know what it is you say."

"When have you ever known that to be true of me?" I asked, raising my eyebrow in question. I stood and moved to his side to keep his eye from avoiding me.

"Dad gummit Mattie do not make this any harder than it already is!" He glowered at me then. "It was wrong of me to kiss you. It will not happen again. Goodnight." With that he flopped on his side to be rid of the sight of me.

We neither slept very much that night.

Buccee's for being so seemingly famous was not exactly what I expected. It squatted, brown and ugly, like a blemish amongst rolling hills and oak trees verdant with spring. It was a hodgepodge of a building that had been hastily added to over the years pieced together by mismatched and rusted tin. A crooked, peeling sign declared "Buccees" was off center above the front porch. It was however bustling with business it seemed, though where the patrons came from I did not know - Texans must spring straight from the trees and rocks in this part of the country. As we neared I could see several men loitering about in the shade of the front porch.

"Now you let me handle the interrogation." LeBoeuf warned as we dismounted outside the rickety log store. I looked up at him innocently.

"I would never dream of overstepping your authority, _Mr.__LaBoeuf_." I said with mock-sweetness.

He snorted, but his face spoke of his seriousness as he eyed the men watching us from the front porch. He reached around me then, pulling my cloak back up over my shoulders and pulling it tight over my chest, his big hands clenched under my chin, drawing me towards him slightly. "You jest all you like with me, but keep that saucy little mouth of yours closed in there." His eyes lingered on my lips as he spoke and something in their clear blue depths made ice trickle down my back. He released me then, and put his hand lightly against my back as we walked. He had removed his own jacket, revealing the star pinned at his breast that winked in the sunlight. He tipped his hat at the men eyeing us warily.

A man's voice could be heard bartering from within before they even crossed the threshold. It was gravelly and good-natured. We weaved their way through an array of dry goods to the counter in the back where an older, round bellied man in a striped shirt and suspenders worked. His hair was white as snow and ringed his head like a halo, meeting bushy white chops that nearly touched an equally bushy white moustache. He had a rather bulbous red nose and liver spots on his hands. I liked him immediately.

"Well Tom you drive a hard bargain but I guess that is fair enough!" He chuckled, handing the man at the counter a sack of goods.

"Thank ya, Buc." The man rumbled and stepped out of their way.

"Well I'll be damned!" He roared as he slapped his big palm against the glass countertop. "If it isn't my favorite lawman!"

"Good to see you, Buc." LeBoeuf graced him with a wide grin as he grasped his hand warmly. The man I guessed was Buck Walters, as LeBoeuf did not seem to have the good manners to introduce us, turned his bright green gaze full on me.

"Well looky here!" He grinned, slapping LaBoeuf hard on the shoulder as men tend to do in their camaraderie. "You told me you'd never bring the Misses around to see me, you old dog!" He cried as he gave me a good look over. "She's a right pretty little thing! I always did like big brown eyes."

"I am no _thing_, sir, nor am I anyone's _Misses_." I replied tartly, turning my eyes to LaBoeuf to aid me. I was surprised to see him visibly pale, a bead of sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Buc!" He cried. "This is Ms. Mattie _Ross_." He emphasized my last name. I furrowed my brow as warning bells sounded off in my head. Mr. Walter's looked equally confused.

"Now Samuel, I though you said your wife's name was Elizabeth?" LeBoeuf was positively stricken then. He gave Mr. Walter's a hard look but did not dare look my way. Mr. Walter's finally got the hint and began fidgeting, stammering awkwardly.

"Oh! Well… then…"

Suddenly I felt as though I had stumbled onto shifting sands.

LaBoeuf was a married man.

Ok, I am a native Texan and I'm pretty sure there's no way you can ride from Waco to Seguin in two days. I tried to add more to make up for it but it was coming out so very forced that I gave up. So! Just pretend they have reeeeally fast horses or something!

Next update soon!


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